Without Words
by Ryeloza
Summary: Tom has a bad day and Lynette decides to cheer him up.  Pre-series.


**Disclaimer: **_Desperate Housewives_ is in no way, shape or form mine.

**Story Summary: **Tom has a bad day and Lynette decides to cheer him up. Pre-series.

**A/n: **This started out as a chapter of "Spontaneous Combustion" and then got a little out of hand, so I decided to make it a one-shot instead. Feedback makes my fingers want to type more, so please let me know what you think! Enjoy!

**Without Words**

A story by **Ryeloza**

Lynette was surprised to find the house dark when she arrived home from work. Even now, with the physical exhaustion of her pregnancy, when she felt tired and cranky after just a few hours of work, most days she arrived home after Tom. This had less to do with their work ethics, she thought, and much more to do with how little Tom wanted to deal with her moods; having dinner ready when she got home was almost always the best way to cheer her up. She wasn't looking forward to the day when being spoiled like this ended; it was rare for her to be pampered, and four months from now, she suspected most of this special treatment would go right out the window.

Unlocking the door and stepping inside, Lynette immediately took off her shoes and breathed a sigh of relief. For the first two or three steps, she hobbled somewhat into the living room, her feet adjusting to the sudden freedom from their hours-long confine, and then reached for the phone so she could just order a pizza. Her finger was on the number two when she heard Tom mumble a greeting from the couch. She gasped, one hand flying to her heart, and the other reaching out to smack his shoulder. "Jeez," she sighed, glaring at him. In the dim light, she lost some of the effect. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry."

"Why are you sitting here in the dark?"

He shrugged and let his head drop back to rest on the couch, face tilted toward the ceiling. He wasn't even out of his work clothes yet, she realized. "Bad day," he muttered. "Some mess with a client. Peterson was on the warpath."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." Tom ran a hand over his face as though he was trying to wake himself up. "He took me off of the account."

"Oh sweetie." She set the phone aside, dropping down onto the couch next to him and tracing the outline of his ear with her fingertip. Tom had never dealt well with problems like this at work, and she wasn't surprised by this reaction now. He was too even-keeled for his own good sometimes, and didn't exactly like it when he was suddenly thrown overboard.

"It wasn't even my mistake," he grumbled. "Jack forgot to send over this paperwork. And now he's the primary on this account. If there is still an account."

Lynette smiled tenderly, brushing Tom's temple with the back of her hand and waiting for him to look back at her. "It was one day," she said firmly. "One account. In the long term, that doesn't mean much."

"Well right now it means a hell of a lot. You know they're deciding bonuses this month."

It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that his bonus wouldn't make or break them this year, but in a rare moment of clarity, she realized saying that could open a whole other can of worms that she didn't want to touch. Her promotion and his new job aside, they'd been skirting around the issue of whether she'd go back to work after she had the babies for weeks, and the last thing she needed was for that to all blow up in her face. The thing to do now was to cheer him up. She needed to indulge him.

Standing, Lynette discarded her coat and blazer without attracting much more than a glance from Tom. Usually the quickest way to make him forget the world was to take advantage of how lithe she was, but in her current state, that failsafe went out the window. She'd have to improvise. Slowly, she stepped toward him, lowering herself onto his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands settled on her hips, and she took this as a good sign despite the fact that he still looked perturbed.

Fighting her natural impulse to speak, she let her hands drift from his neck up to his face, running her fingers from his forehead down to cup his cheeks. One of her thumbs swept over his lips, and then she gently traced the bridge of his nose, encouraged when Tom's eyes fluttered shut for a moment. When he looked at her again, there was a hint of something in his eyes that made her flush with warmth, heat settling like a hot, tight ball low in her abdomen. It was lust, but in a way she rarely saw from him, mixed with his anger and annoyance and frustration. In a way, it almost seemed dangerous, and a wicked delight crept up her spine at the thought. She was about to ignite an explosion, and it was exciting and scary all at once.

"My handsome," she whispered, dipping down to kiss the corner of his mouth, and then moving to the other side, "sexy, amazing husband." She kissed him soft and slow, and though his hands tightened on her hips, he didn't push it further. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"Show me."

Lynette smiled, mostly to hide how she was practically throbbing for him at this point, and dragged her hands down to fumble with his tie. To distract him, she came forward to kiss him again, and this time he gave her a heated response, tongue and lips working together to melt her brain. She managed to pull his tie off and toss it aside before breaking the kiss.

"Do you—"

"No," he ordered, silencing her with a finger to her lips. Her eyes widened slightly and he let out a ragged breath. "No talking."

She did love a challenge.

Pretending not to notice the way his heart was rapidly beating beneath her hand now, Lynette moved her hands to her own blouse, undoing all of the buttons and letting it fall open without bothering to remove it. Tom immediately reached out to touch her breasts, but she quickly came forward and bent to kiss his neck, denying them both what they wanted. He smelled so good, the faded scent of aftershave and soap and that heady man smell that she loved most of all on Tom. She kept kissing him, determined to let her lips press against every part of his neck, all the while overly aware of his hands as they swept under her shirt to caress her bare back. One of his fingers touched on the scar on her shoulder blade, grazing over it reverently before moving to blaze a path down her spine. She shifted on his lap, and felt him straining against his pants; instinctively, her hands moved to his shirt and began to undo the buttons.

Tom, on the other hand, seemed dissatisfied with her one simple movement, and as she let her hands rove over the planes of his chest, his went back to her hips and forcibly encouraged her to continue to grind herself against him. There wasn't any use in putting up a fight; it felt as good for her as it did for him. No longer quite in control of her body, Lynette dipped her head back and finally exposed her chest to him, and immediately his right hand reached up to squeeze her breast. It wasn't enough to feel him through her bra; she moved her hands back and unclasped it with fumbling fingers, eagerly twisting and contorting to free herself of her clothes. Tom watched her with patient eyes, but the instant she tossed her bra to the floor, his mouth was on her, hot and persistent. She felt like she was on fire.

Suddenly, Tom shifted, flipping her so she was on her back and he hovered over her, and like breaking through some fog, she shook her head, trying to form a thought. "Can't," she gasped, breaking his rule and exacting a punishment as he lightly bit down on her nipple. "Doctor…Not on my back…"

Tom seemed to realized what she was trying to say—he had been there when the doctor had given them a too long list of dos and don'ts for sex now—and as quickly as he had pushed her onto her back, he pulled away from her. Lynette squirmed to get into a sitting position, but before she could, Tom was undoing her pants, fingernails scraping her hips in his eagerness to remove them. For a minute, he simply stared at her naked body, and then his hands were on her, pulling her up and turning her over so she was on her hands and knees. Immediately, the pressure was relieved, and she knew in an instant why it was better not to be on her back—this, this felt amazing.

His hands glided over her back down to her ass, and finally, she felt him right where she wanted him. He slipped two fingers inside of her, twisting and stroking her until she thought she might black out or explode or cry—something to simply relieve the intense and frantic pressure she felt building inside of her. But right as she reached that precipice, he pulled out his fingers and she heard him scrambling to undo his pants, his belt buckle clinking as he struggled with it. Impatient, she reached down to touch herself, but Tom pushed her hand away and she groaned in frustration. After what felt like an eternity, she felt his cock rub against her, teasing her mercilessly before he finally pushed himself inside of her.

The second he entered her, everything suddenly seemed to move at a high speed. He grabbed her hips tightly, holding her in place so he could pound into her, and she found herself unable to keep silent. The feel of him so deep inside of her, her body on fire where he touched her—she was overwhelmed, and it didn't take her long to bubble over in rapture. She tightened like a vise against him as she came, screaming as Tom began to move even faster until he inevitably fell over the edge with her.

Her body felt like jelly, weak and insubstantial as her heart beat so fast that it felt like it would burst from her chest. Tom seemed to sense that he had reduced her to nothing, and after a minute, he moved so they were lying on the couch, his body spooning hers from behind. She could feel his rapidly moving chest against her back, and a rush of warmth flooded her body at the feeling of him so alive and solid and whole. She shut her eyes, smiling when Tom brushed some of her sweat-slicked hair from her temple and kissed her gently.

"Thank you," he said quietly. He hugged her tightly, and she ran her hand over his forearm, not sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. It was too much—this power she had, the knowledge that in some ways she was everything to him—and sometimes she thought that she might just get swept away and drown in their love for one another.


End file.
